Penance
by A Lonely God
Summary: Castiel and Dean watch the bees.


The trees in the distance, tall and strong and casting shadows across the grass, were swaying with the force of the wind. Castiel watched them idly, hands clasped and placed gently in his lap. As an angel, it took him only a moment to shift his vision from the greatness of the trees to the solitary beauty of a single blade of grass in the expanse across from him. It bent to its base from the power of the breeze, and Castiel marvelled at the thought that something so infinitely small in such an infinitely large universe could be so beautiful.

Those were often things he contemplated, when the recesses of his mind would allow him the peace. Castiel severely suffered from the frequent inability to do just that – be at peace. It was something so remarkably human and innocent and he longed to be able to just sit, much like he was doing now, and think. Not to question his mistakes and his sins, but rather to appreciate the beauty of the world around him, to look at God's work and see, in true earnest, what the point of it all was.

He had been numb to all of those mistakes at one point. Castiel could visualize the point that he'd taken on Sam's pain, taken on the memories and the hurt and felt everything real slip away. And there was something about that, he'd decided, that was beautiful. He had a strong desire, such a strong desire, to shed the weight of his mistakes one more time for good. But now he was 'better', and he was no longer a walking bag of crazy, and there was no longer a need for him to act as such. On the contrary, now that he'd been fixed, it was Castiel's job to play the role of protector to the Winchesters, while obeying the words of Naomi, and he did such as best as he could.

Sure, there were moments. Everyone had their moments. Some days, he couldn't look Dean in the eyes for fear that all he would see was disappointment, and some days he could not look at Sam because he didn't want to see the pity. And some days, his hands shook with rage and he saw red because he hated everything that he had ever bevome.

And despite it all, the moments when he could sit in peace and watch the trees in the wind, or see the blades of grass bend back and forth, were the moments that made all of the pain meaningless to him. There was a row of wildflowers to his right, very out of place but smile provoking nonetheless. Castiel shifted on the ground, squeezing his hands together a little bit tighter.

When he noticed the bee, clinging delicately to one of the petals of one of the flowers, he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from tearing up. Castiel closed his eyes. Against the backs of his eyelids, he could see the bees again; he could see himself, collecting honey and revelling in the beauty of God's creations. He opened them again, watching the bee closely, its body all black and gold hair.

A noise behind him beckoned Castiel's attention, but he kept his eyes focused on the bee. He had a strong idea of who the visitor to his quiet place was, but it was someone he couldn't look in the eyes. He felt Dean sit down next to him, saw him lean his forearms down onto his knees from the corner of his eye. Castiel took the quiet expulsion of air that soon followed Dean's arrival as a sigh, but he still refused to meet the elder Winchester's gaze.

"Hello, Dean."

"You plan on comin' back inside?" Dean's voice was rough and gravelly, much like it usually was, but there was something in it this time that Castiel couldn't identify.

The bee was in the air again, but still hovering over the wildflower. Castiel followed its movements, "No, thank you."

Dean pressed his lips together in frustration, nodding gently and looking at the ground between his legs. The movement made the bones in his neck crack and shift around, and Dean let out another airy sigh.

"Cas," He began, "You've been out here for hours. Get inside."

"No, thank you, Dean," Castiel repeated, squeezing the palms of his hands together. He could feel the blood pulsing in the veins of his vessel, the heartbeat that didn't belong to him, and it served as a distraction from the man beside him, "I'm just fine out here."

Dean felt anger cloud his brain and his fill in the spaces behind his eyes, and for a moment his words were fuel with quiet fury, "What the hell are you even doing out here, Cas?"

He wasn't entirely sure why he was mad at the angel, or why he was yelling, but he instantly regretted it when he saw the pained look on Castiel's face. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He didn't even remember what he'd come out to talk to Castiel about. Dean had begun some semblance of an apology when he was interrupted.

"I'm thinking," Castiel said, and finally turned his head to face Dean. He was pale, and there was a redness on the rims of his eyes, but there was a smile on his face nonetheless. He gestured from Dean, to the bumble bee, who was still flitting about around the flower patch, "I'm watching the bees."

And Dean felt his stomach drop, because there was something so pure and innocent on the angel's face, something he'd never seen before. There was a distant air of fear, and Dean recognized it from looking in Sam's eyes before, as the fear of destroying something. And for a minute, Dean thought that fear was directed at him.

"Cas, buddy, don't l-"

He had planned on telling Castiel not to look at him like that, but Castiel had already looked away from him, eyes trained on the bee. Dean was quiet, until the angel spoke again.

"Would you like to watch the bees with me, Dean?"

* * *

**[an] I mean, this definitely takes place sometime in Season 8, but that's the best I've got for you. I swear, I am usually not this terrible of a writer. [an]**


End file.
